


A Beamish Revival

by ominousrum



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/F, Fluff, anyway these two make me emotional thnx, canonverse, with liberties taken for Robin's yet unknown cursed name
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-05
Updated: 2018-01-05
Packaged: 2019-02-28 16:15:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13275186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ominousrum/pseuds/ominousrum
Summary: This particular dreary, overcast afternoon was shaping up to be uneventful. Of course that’s exactly when the fates conspired to make it not so.





	A Beamish Revival

**Author's Note:**

> This little fic came to me because I am very emotional about Bunnyhood, ok? *gestures ineffectually*
> 
> Please ignore any inaccuracies as well as what will likely be obliterated by canon because I do what I want.

The pub she favoured was very firmly an old man’s pub – dated leather and wood furniture, various taxidermied animal heads mounted on the wall, and a bar that stocked almost entirely whisky, but Tilly didn’t mind. She wasn’t really a drinker and the men mostly kept to themselves, which was not the case in just any drinking establishment. If they did engage her in conversation it was usually just an “Alright, Tills?” to which she would flash a dazzling smile and return to the task at hand. The task being playing darts for hours on end. 

She wasn’t sure what had initially drawn her to take up darts, as the past always seemed decidedly foggy. She definitely wasn’t sure what kept her playing, seeing as she was abysmal at it. In the moment though, it calmed her. It was a soothing balm to frazzled nerves and questionable interactions with varying degrees of seedy individuals. Lousy at the game as she was, it afforded a modicum of peace.

This particular dreary, overcast afternoon was shaping up to be uneventful. Of course that’s exactly when the fates conspired to make it not so.

Tilly pulled open the heavy door and scanned the room as she walked to her usual table – a brief salute to Marv behind the bar to signal her usual pint of Guinness should be sent her way. She nearly tripped over her own feet as she realized a beautiful blonde woman was sitting at her table, sipping a large whisky and looking despondent.

Tilly bit her tongue. Surely engaging the stranger in conversation would only make her more inclined to stay or, even worse, return to claim her table another day. She veered off to a table on the other side of the dart board and plunked her shoulder bag down. Once the initial surprise wore off, she straightened and grabbed the darts from their place embedded in the outer edge of the board.

She felt oddly self-conscious with the unknown patron so close, half an eye wandering to check if she ever looked up from her drink and pushing her precarious aim even further from the mark.

Tilly frowned. The glum stranger hadn’t even acknowledged her presence, not even the compulsory nod she’d gotten from Roy and Dennis and at bar. She twirled a dart between her thumb and forefinger, unintentionally staring at the interloper. When Marv brought her pint over, she found impossibly green eyes staring back at her, snapped out of her reverie by the movement.

After the initial flush of embarrassment left her cheeks, Tilly was shaken by a bizarre but overwhelming feeling of familiarity. It was almost as though she had seen straight through to her soul and the ghost of a past life had shivered in recognition. What a _silly_ notion.

The stranger had since returned to gazing at the bottom of her glass and Tilly returned to her darts, hand more wobbly than moments before.

She half-wondered if she should give up darts altogether and try again tomorrow – what sort of peace could she reasonably expect now? She tucked a leg under her and sat on the cushioned chair, slowly drawing the pint to her lips. A long sip and she let her eyes flit to the lady at her usual table.

She wore black leggings, a t-shirt depicting a strange monster with large wings and hooded eyelids just visible under a denim jacket. Quite pretty, even though she looks miserable. _Shut up, brain!_ Tilly softly clucked her tongue, scolding her own thoughts.

After a few sips where she casually studied the wisps of hair escaping the stranger’s high ponytail, Tilly picked up the darts with renewed dedication. She wouldn’t be chased out of her own pub by a mysterious woman, attractiveness and inexplicable feelings of connection be damned!

Five rounds of darts in with her usual success rate of actually hitting the board (no mean feat, most days), Tilly began to hum a song, finally getting into her usual groove. Such focus the dart in her hand nearly flew backwards when the stranger exclaimed “You’re dropping your wrist, you know.”

Tilly spun around, a loud “What?” escaping her.

“Your wrist,” the blonde gestured toward her with a near-empty glass, “it’s falling when you’re launching the dart. Well your whole arm is, really.”

Tilly scoffed. “I don’t remember asking your opinion, _love._ ” She blinked. Though the endearment had been delivered in a sarcastic tone, a disconcerting pang of deja-vu caught her in the chest.

“A thank you would suffice,” a smug smile pulled at the lady’s lips.

“Who died and made you queen of darts, then?” Tilly huffed before considering the possible impact of her words. Maybe she had lost someone – she was drinking whisky at 2:00 in the afternoon, after all. “I- I certainly hope that isn’t what-“

The woman’s eyes widened before shaking her head, “what led to my downing some very strong whisky? No.”

“None of my business,” Tilly muttered more to herself than in response, “just haven’t seen you around before…” The end of her sentence spoken even softer than the start, fingers tightening around the metal dart.

“I just moved back and my feet led me to this pub,” she laughed, eyes sparkling. “A drink or two helps me think, sometimes.”

Tilly hummed and turned to face the dart board in earnest, steadying her arm as the advice she received danced in her head. She set her lips in a thin line and took aim, willing her arm to stay as level with her eyes as possible, and launched a dart.

The widest, most genuine grin broke across her face as she watched it land to wedge itself in the outer bullseye and she twirled to face the lady whose tip caused such an incredible event. The stranger smiled broadly back with a nod of approval.

“I’m Tilly,” she extended a hand of greeting to her newfound darts coach.  

The blonde rose and accepted her hand. “Callie.”

***

 

Within a few weeks a steady friendship had bloomed, Tilly amazed at the ease of it all. Often she forgot the darts entirely in favour of wrapping her arms around her knees atop a pub chair and listening to Callie talk. She mused Callie could probably simply rattle off the weather report and she’d be enthralled. There was such a grace and strength to her, it took her breath away.

One day Tilly showed up a bit early from their usual mid-afternoon meeting and got them both a pint, having since lured her friend away from whisky in favour of slower drinks, the darts calling her name. She squealed with excitement as she hit a bullseye, punching the air, and lined up another ready to fire.

“Tilly?” Callie’s voice behind her coaxed a specific smile to her lips. The dart flew wide.

“Hey! You’re earlier than I thought you’d be, but I already got you a pint.” 

Her face dropped instantly at the look on her friend’s face; it was frighteningly intense. She was holding a small glass vial tightly in her fist as though it was the only solid thing in the world.

“Do you trust me?” Callie’s voice was low, wavering with emotion.

“’Course. What’s wrong, though?” She narrowed her eyes. The thought of Callie being in trouble made her heart pound in her chest.

“I know this will sound ridiculous but if you trust me I need you to drink this,” Callie handed her the vial, hand shaking slightly.

“I don’t think Marv allows anyone to smuggle in outside drinks,” Tilly quipped, desperate to lighten the mood.

“ _Please_ , Tilly.”

As ominous as a mystery liquid was, she knew the pleading was sincere. She plucked the small stopper out and downed it in one.

It felt like falling, tumbling further and further down into the center of the earth until she somehow righted herself to find she was still on her feet, head shrouded in confusion. A hand was at her elbow and she let her eyes follow it to its owner.

_“Robin?”_

A sniffle and a laugh filtered their way into her ears and all at once her love was back in her arms, pressing a trail of kisses into her neck. “I missed you,” Robin breathed into her hair.

Alice pulled back to cup her girlfriend’s face in her hands, “Didn’t I tell you we’d know each other even if we didn’t?”


End file.
